


The Warden's Journal

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the Dragon Age kink meme. The companions discuss the Warden's infamously omnipresent journal. M!Amell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warden's Journal

"What is he  _doing_?" Sten's powerful brow was furrowed as he stared across the camp site, lips swiftly pursing together as he stared. Zevran and Alistair looked up from the puzzle box they'd been solving together (in truth, Zevran had figured out the solution 20 minutes ago, but Alistair was enjoying himself far too much for the elf to ruin the game), and Wynne glanced up from her book.

"He always does that." Leliana said, continuing to tune her lute, carefully tightening the strings. "Notes things down in his journal."

"But  _what_  does he note down? And why?"

"Why,  _Sten_ , I've never seen you so utterly curious. It's terribly bewitching." Sten did not even deign to answer Morrigan's delighted purr with the barest of cold glances; he tilted his head sightly to the side, staring.

The mage was sat on his bedroll, eyes downwards as he made notes in a thick, bound journal. Beside him was a pile of papers and a few books, but he paid them barely any heed.

"He writes down passages from books, mostly." Alistair said, setting the puzzle box aside - Zevran swiftly snatched it up and set about solving it, though he continued to listen as the others talked. "Copies down notes, journal entries, keeps a log of conversation. I don't know why he bothers, though. He has a, uh, a memory that- Zevran...?"

" _Eidetic_  memory, sweet boy." The assassin said, and Alistair's cheeks reddened; he seemed quite ready to become defensive about the "boy" comment, but Zevran was already standing, dropping the puzzle box, now solved, into the warrior's lap before sliding forwards. 

"Ah, again with the books, lovely Daylen?" Zevran settled behind the mage, draping his form over the mage's back and resting his chin upon Amell's right shoulder. "Ah, so much reading, it's terribly bad for you, you know. You ought experience."

"I note down experiences as well." Daylen said dryly, continuing to make notes - on the subject of  _dragons,_ no less. Zevran found himself charmed by the other's handwriting - looping script that was neat and easy to follow. "And I am not  _lovely_."

"Oh, but I disagree!" Zevran turned, breath hot against the lobe of the other man's ear as his hands travelled down to grasp at Daylen's hips, slipping up over his robes. "You are terribly lovely, and more lovely without these robes on, in my tent, on your back, may we-"

"Soon." Daylen said, amused. "Your problem, Zevran, is that you think too linearly. Point A to point B. You never consider that once you get to point B you will not know what to do, because you spent no time reading, researching."

"I assure you, Daylen, I know  _exactly_  what to do when I get to point B." Zevran dragged his lips over the mage's neck, and Daylen laughed.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Mmm, do you know what  _your_  problem is, Warden?"

"What's that?"

"You think  _too much_." He sat back, kneeling behind the mage, and his hands, clever, dexterous, moved to begin massaging at Daylen's shoulders where the muscle was thick and knotted with tension beneath the fabric of his robes; he was more than gratified by the quiet groan Daylen released. "Now, tell me, why do you keep that little journal of yours, hmm? You have only to look at a book's page and you have it memorized."

"That's not true. A few passages I'd get, perhaps-"

"And those passages you write down. Why?" Zevran was uninterested in the Warden's attempts to downplay his abilities - around the others, Zevran did not mind. He understood the need to be capable of  _surprise_ , and he was far too clever not to realize the mage's plays at modesty were always false.

"Well, for after this is over. As reference. I don't remember those passages forever, Zevran." Amell pointed out, and the Elf hummed, thoughtful. 

"Very well." He leaned over, turning pages with swift fingers, and saw his own name. "Oh,  _Zevran Arainai_. Read to me my passage, darling, please."

"You can read yourself." Daylen retorted, but he was beginning to soften under Zevran's charms; his hands had left the book now, and he reached back for the elf's hips, leaning back against him. He had finished the passage he needed to, and hedonism was never something Daylen had liked to resist for long.

"Ah, but I like your voice." Zevran pointed out, and he begin to drag his lips over the back of the other's neck. "I want to hear all the compliments you've bestowed upon me. About my skills in battle, my caramel voice, my beautiful hair, my beautiful face, my skills in  _bed_ -"

"You would hear about none of those things, because you possess none."

"None! Why, I am insulted!" Zevran let out a dramatic gasp, falling on his back on the floor, clutching at his own heart. "Oh, cruel Fates! I'm not good in  _bed!_ "

Across the clearing, Wynne put her face in her hands - that particular shout had carried over. The others laughed amongst themselves, bar Sten; Sten was distracted into glaring at Morrigan and Leliana equally, given that they had taken to teasing him once again.

"You're an idiot."

"But a pretty idiot."

"Get into my tent."

" _Gladly_." As Zevran went, he caught Alistair's eye, indicating the journal Daylen had left on his bedroll. Alistair grinned, delighted, and tried his best to ignore the sounds from the tent as he grasped at it a few minutes later.

\---

"Does it say I'm good in bed?" Zevran asked the next morning, sprawled quite contentedly across Leliana's lap as she braided his hair - he had attempted to seduce Sten's assistance in the task, but Sten had said obstinately that if he was going to braid Zevran's hair it would be in the traditional Way of the Qun, with all the blades involved, and Zevran had not wished to call his bluff.

"What? No!" Alistair huffed, thrusting the journal to the assassin - Daylen had disappeared with Oghren to Lake Calenhad with the dog, having sleepily muttered something about dwarf sex, and thus it was fine to candidly pass it about. "It's mostly just notes."

"And no notes about how  _mindblowing_  I am as a bed partner?"

"Do you  _think_  about anything other than sex?" Alistair asked desperately, and Zevran thought for a moment.

"Hmm. No." He looked down at the book, and then let out a laugh. "It says that I don't!"


End file.
